


The Tender Violence Of Creation

by curlspen



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Father-Son Relationship, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Parenthood, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22399630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlspen/pseuds/curlspen
Summary: A story of unlikely love, trauma recovery, and two archenemies struggling to co-parent a flying teenager.(1 Year Post-BvS) After escaping from prison, Lex goes back to the Kryptonian ship and creates Conner Luthor.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor Jr., Kon-El | Conner Kent & Lex Luthor, Mercy Graves & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Mercy Graves & Lex Luthor Jr.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

Lex is sore and out of breath from digging up the grave. Escaping from Arkham Asylum was a simple enough task, once he found a guard whose daughter was in desperate need of a surgery he couldn’t afford, Lex was able to easily trigger a fight in the cafeteria and run out a series of doors that said guard had so graciously left unlocked and unmonitored. Lex’s feet are still damp from running barefoot towards the hole in the fence. Grave digging, on the other hand, is tiring and much less suited to Lex’s skill set. Six feet is much deeper than it sounds, and graves are packed very tightly.

The shovel shudders as it hits something solid. The sky begins to weep in earnest, as if mourning her favored son. Lex lets the shovel plop to the ground before dropping to his hands and knees, and lowering himself into the grave. The thick scent of earth fills his nostrils, dirt under his fingernails, and his heart thrashing so loudly it fills his skull with its sound. He almost worries, almost hopes, that the sound is loud enough to wake the slumbering God.

With his bare hands, Lex brushes the remaining dirt from the coffin. It’s a terribly plain thing carved from wood. It’s a casket for an old farmer, not fit for a God. Lex would have built him a pyramid or a temple, he thinks as he opens the box with trembling fingers. 

Gods can die, must die, but apparently, they don’t rot. The God’s skin gleams like porcelain, when Lex cups his cheek, it does not collapse under his palm. He’s not quite cold, but not warm either. Lex blinks the sting from his eyes, his tears mixing with the raindrops on his cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak but his throat is too tight, and no words seem big enough.

So, Lex swallows the lump in his throat. Or tries to. Then takes Kal-El’s hand in his, lifting the heavy limp away from where it’s intertwined with the other; grimacing slightly when he must pry the stiff fingers back. Then the lump is too much to swallow, and Lex has no choice but to let it slip out of his mouth as a sound. A whimper. Then a sob, that gives way to a wave of sobs that rake through his body, shaking him violently. His hand is still shaking as he lifts his knife to Kal-El’s palm, and cuts deeply. Leaving a scar to match his own (if the God can scar, Lex hopes so).

Crimson liquid flows from the wound, spilling onto Lex’s hand before he can bring his vial to the wound; then spilling around the vial as it trembles in Lex’s grip. He chuckles bitterly through his tears, the Gods’ blood staining his hands. How poetic.

Lex sniffles, resisting the urge to wipe his nose and spread the crimson to his face, as he caps the vial and stumbles to his feet over Kal-El. He doesn’t let go of the hand as he rises, not until he has to. He savors the feeling of the God’s larger hand in his, even if it is a little cold and drenched in blood.

Lex wants to say ‘I’m sorry’ before he closes the casket, but he doesn’t, because he can’t be sorry. There was no choice in this, it was the natural consequence. God exists, therefore he must be destroyed. He can’t apologize for Kal-El’s death any more than a hurricane can apologize for wreaking havoc; it just is. Gods die because they must. Instead he just says:

“We’ll meet again, Kal-El. I know you’ll crawl your way back into the sky eventually.”

Lex descends into the familiar darkness of the Kryptonian ship. The walls around are distinctly Kryptonian, distinctly Kal-El; the arrogant sleekness (not unlike Lex’s own home), the reptilian eeriness, the pool of liquid that is somehow clean once more. He slides into the liquid, his heart no longer thrashing but humming in his chest. Lex touches his hand, covered in dirt and blood, to the blue light. A familiar voice fills the ship, the robotic woman’s voice that had echoed in his head for the past year, telling him story after story of Kyrpton’s rising and falling.

“Welcome back, Alexander Luthor.”

“Hello,” he says softly, “it’s time for my second son to be born.” 

Lex uncaps the vial; the outside has now dried to a black-red crust but inside is fresh Kryptonian blood. Kal-El’s blood, Lex thinks excitedly. He spills the liquid into the pool, watching crimson swirl in gold.

“Acknowledging presence of genetic material. Analyzing. I’ve identified the DNA as Kal-El of Krypton."

Lex can't help but flinch slightly as he reopens his scar with the blade, letting his blood dance with Kal's in the pool.

“Will this create the desecration without name?” Lex pushes away the memory of his monster-son’s fist, of Kal-El…

“No, sir.”

“Then proceed.”

Lex climbs out of the pool, watching intently from the edge as blue lights flicker like lighting bolts. After a few moments, they stop. Silence screams. Lex scans the liquid, now frothy with red, until he spots something moving, writhing. It’s small and trying to crawl its way out of a clear sack.

“Five seconds to birth.” Birth. Not animation. Lex waits. 

A baby’s cry resounds through the ship. Lex’s legs start moving before he can think, he’s half-running, splashing and almost slipping through the bloodied liquid. He picks up the wiggling, screaming baby from the liquid. He rests him on his chest, tiny hands smearing blood on his already dirty jumpsuit.

Lex’s son is warm. That makes sense, Lex thinks, he is half sun god after all. But he’d expected the baby’s skin to be made of marble; as cold and unearthly as the ship around them. He is soft and heavy in Lex’s arms. He’s drenched in sticky, crimson liquid; every inch a child of flesh and blood and gore. Until he opens his eyes, painfully familiar eyes pierce Lex to his very core. They are bluer than blue and flecked with sunlight, just like Kal-El’s. On instinct, Lex holds the baby closer to his chest. So warm, so real, like a little piece of the sun that belongs only to him. Then Lex notices, the baby has stopped crying and started cooing happily. Lex bloody hand caresses the baby’s bloody cheek, 

“Hi. Hi, son.” Lex whispers softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I love you so much, my sunshine, and I’m never going to let anything hurt you.” the words taste alien, but not unpleasant

Nothing will be able to. Lex smiles. The baby smiles back.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Lex does when he boards his private getaway ship is take a long hot bath, holding the baby in his lap. He had to drain and refill the bath three times to not be soaking in chunky, pink-red water but finally his hands are clean (at least literally-speaking) and the baby’s face is clean enough to properly see his face. 

“You really do look like your daddy. Your other one. Lucky little… what should I name you?” 

The baby doesn’t respond to Lex’s question, he’s much more interested in the way the bubbles jump when he smacks them. A few suds splash onto Lex’s face, which the baby finds so amusing that he decides to grab a handful of bubbles in his tiny fist and smear them on his dad’s cheek himself. Lex makes a small splash back, giggling when the baby scrunches up his nose.

“What was I saying? Oh yes, a name. Names are very important, maybe even more important than bubbles. My father…” Lex trails off, realizing that he doesn’t want to taint such a pure being’s ears with talk of Alexander Luthor Sr. who had named his son after himself, not letting him have an identity of his own. Only calling him Junior, like a pet. “Your middle name should be Joseph, like both your fathers. But your first name will be your own, you’ll never be a Junior.” 

Baby spreads some suds on his own face, letting out a simpering cry when they spill in his eyes.

“Shh, shh.” Lex shushes as he wipes his face clean with a washcloth.

Lex isn’t used to feeling bad when someone gets hurt, the way his chest tightens when not-Junior cries feels nearly overwhelming in its novelty. Luckily, the baby settles down quickly when Lex awkwardly rocks him a bit, the water sloshing gently around them. The baby watches the water slosh back and forth, his ruddy cheek resting on Lex’s chest, until his eyes drift shut. 

Lex very carefully stands up, trying to move the baby as little as possible. Drying him off without waking him is a more delicate task, Lex has to shush the baby back to sleep a few times when he stirs.

Lex allows Mercy to handle the task of diapering and setting the baby in the crib, ignoring the pang he feels handing his son over, even to the person he trusts most in the world. Mercy was the first person who ever looked at Lex like the genius he is, no matter how much of his troubled psyche he revealed to her. They were still technically teenagers when they met a year after his father’s not-so-tragic passing, Mercy was the kind of girl who wore the same black eyeliner for three days straight because she wanted people to know she didn’t care about anything. Except it wasn’t a teenage façade for her, she is the most apathetic person Lex has ever met. But her loyalty is iron clad and that’s what matters to him. She had been willing to explode for Lex without batting an eye.

Yes, Mercy is trustworthy. Lex forces down his anxiety and focuses on his work. There’s much to be done to prepare his new life in Japan and plot his rise back to power. At least, he tries to focus on work, instead he ends up writing a list of baby names in his notepad. 

Apollo. No, no Gods.  
Phoebus. No, too pretentious.  
Christopher. Too common, even more common than Alexander.  
Camron. Hmm, almost.  
Conrad. Maybe.  
Conner.

Conner…Lex feels the word in his mouth. Yes, that’s good. Lex circles the name in green crayon. Mercy knows to stock all of Lex’s workplaces with crayons of every size and color, as well as a glass filled with candies. Lex is aware of how childlike he is in many ways, but he indulges himself in juvenile pleasures whenever possible as his own personal rebellion against a father who tainted everything sweet and colorful and joyous that he could find. He did try using markers, thinking they were slightly less childish, but the smell overwhelmed him quickly, and he likes the texture of crayons better.

“Conner Joseph Luthor.” He writes it out, drawing a yellow heart on the end for good measure.

Conner sleeps long enough for Lex to purchase a secluded house in rural Japan (greasing a few palms to ensure discretion), in the heart of Mercy’s hometown, and to take a three-hour nap. Lex isn’t particularly annoyed when he’s awoken by the piercing sound of the baby – Conner – crying; sleep has never been Lex's friend, if it weren’t a baby’s scream waking him up then it would be his own screams doing the job. Nightmares are one of the many gifts from daddy dearest that Lex hadn’t been able to get rid of no matter how many years passed since the bastard’s death. 

Lex runs into Mercy in the hallway on the way to the baby’s room. 

“Sorry if he disturbed you, Mr. Luthor, I was just going to him.”

Something about Mercy’s tone makes nausea, even a twinge of anger, rise in Lex’s throat. The words echo in his mother’s voice (don’t disturb your father, Junior, you don’t want to make him angry).

“My son is not a disturbance. I can handle him, Mercy. You just go back to bed.”

“Yes, sir.” Mercy replies dutifully after a brief pause; wanting to say more but knowing Lex well enough to know she should back off.

Lex smiles when he sees Conner’s crib for the first time, his previous thoughts retreating into the dark recesses of his mind. Mercy had chosen well, especially considering the short notice, the bars are a cheerful yellow and the baby soft, pure-white sheets are covered in happy smiling suns. The piece of furniture looks out of place in Lex’s home where everything is cold and stark and jagged-edged, but Lex loves it none the less. It suits the son of a sun god. 

“Shh, hush, my sunshine.” Lex whispers as he carefully lifts Conner from the crib.

Now that the exhilaration Lex felt in the Kryptonian ship has waned, holding the baby seems a far more daunting task. He half-expects Superman to burst through the window and tell him he can’t handle this. But he doesn’t, and so Lex carefully lifts the crying baby into his arms, taking special care to support his over-sized head. Once he has Conner cradled, it seems easier to hold him. Fuck Superman, he can do this. Conner is heavier than he looks though; Lex slowly lowers himself into the matching yellow rocking chair that Mercy had apparently taken it upon herself to buy. She really is his best assistant, he’s glad he changed his mind about blowing her up. 

Conner’s cries have ebbed to breathy whines and occasional little hiccups by the time Lex settles into the seat. Lex begins to sing, softly at first, his voice trembling around the edges, but then a little bit stronger.

“You are my sunshine.

My only sunshine.

You make me happy,

When skies are grey. 

You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Half-way through Lex’s second lullaby, Mercy silently enters the room and hands Lex a bottle of warm formula. She has the grace to pretend she didn’t hear Lex singing and doesn’t see the droplets of joyful tears spilling down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenote: curlspen is a youngest sibling with limited experience with babies, let's just say that Conner is an alien-evil genius hybrid baby made in the goo of a spaceship so some rules apply differently because she does not know how babies work ok.


End file.
